Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of her studio, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He'd poured his heart into “Crimson Ascent,” a swirling canvas depicting a phoenix rising. Now, he'd seen it on the back of a burly man at the bus stop. The man hadn't even noticed him.

Leo slammed the door shut, locking himself in. He felt a creeping unease, like a phantom limb ache. His breath came in shallow gasps.

He paced the room, each step echoing in the oppressive silence. He'd never felt so exposed, so raw. The studio, once his sanctuary, suddenly felt like a cage. He couldn't shake the image.